| 英譯： |
Ah, I have not died
I have grief in my life here alone
Retired to Lant'ien
With a little plot to till myself
Taxes paid at the year's end
And offerings for my ancestors
Dawn walks to the eastern hill
In a dew still wet on the grass
Evening sights of fires' smoke
And laden people coming home
I hear that I have guests
And I have my poor entrance swept
What can I give them to eat?
Slice a melon, pick some jujubes
Beside my honoured guests
I am prematurely grey
I am ashamed at my lack of good mats
And have to provide coarse ones
We can climb that floating bank
And pick those lotuses
Or tranquilly look at the silver sturgron
Or watch the shadows on the white sand
Birds in the hills all flying
Sun dimmed by a light haze
You mount your carriages and horses
And suddenly scatter like rain
Fledgelings twitter in the deserted village
Fowls cry by the empty house
I am back in my deep solitude
Renewed sadness, redouble sights.
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